


Calling In

by good_ho_mens



Series: DC One-offs [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: (crying emoji), (thumbs up emoji), Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Tim Drake, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Like, The Author Regrets Everything, YALL I MADE MYSELF CRY, im so sorry, im sorry fellas i can only write so much fluff, its all sad, very hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22567810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/good_ho_mens/pseuds/good_ho_mens
Summary: “Red Robin calling in to the batcave. Something is wrong."
Relationships: Batfamily Members/Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne
Series: DC One-offs [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1623775
Comments: 24
Kudos: 492





	Calling In

The message is fuzzy, having floated around in the wires and databases of who knows how many computers that even Wayne Industry’s high tech communication value began to break down. 

Father, cowl down and gloves hands tightening their grip on the arms of his chair, stares up at the monitor, waiting. Damian stands next to him, slightly behind the chair. Grayson has a hand on his shoulder, the other clenched at his side. Pennyworth stands stoic as ever a few feet away, trying not to look rattled. Todd is further back than anyone, taking apart and reassembling his gun for the fourth time. 

For once, the full batcave is silent. 

“This is Red Robin, calling in to the Batcave.”

There’s a beat, like the voice is waiting for someone to respond. No one does. 

“I got jumped in an alley. Details are fuzzy. I’m practically unharmed, maybe a small concussion. It would explain the memory loss. I’m not able to patch into the coms. Must be something blocking me, I managed to hack through to the central link which is why I’m calling you at the cave.” There’s a falter, breaking the professional tone. “Uh- I guess that’s why no one’s answering. You’re all probably out on patrol.”

Another pause, everyone in the batcave holds their breath. 

“I’ll check in when I have more info, Red Robin, out.”

“How come-“ Grayson’s hoarse voice is cut off when the computer beeps, static once again patching through. 

“This is Red Robin, calling in to the batcave. I haven’t gotten a response. I- my scanner says you're receiving my messages but… maybe your reply won’t patch through to me.” Drake almost says it like a question. “Anyway, I said I’d call in when I had more info. I do. I still don’t know who’s holding me, but I was able to identify the metal that the walls of my cell are made of. I’m somewhere in the Gotham shipyard, probably some drug ring too scared to kill me and too cautious to let me go.”

He talks about someone killing him as a fact, just another clue to what’s happening. Next to Damian, Father stiffens. 

“Waiting for your orders Batman, Red Robin, out.”

Todd scoffs. 

Anger reaching his head and pressing behind his eyes, Damian turns. “Do you think this is a joke?”

Todd glares, the gun in his hand trembling, “What? That Tim is-“

“Red Robin calling in to the batcave. Something is wrong. I can tell from my watch that it’s been six days. I’ve had no food or water. By all laws of biology, I should be dead by now. But I’m not. I’m starting to think this is more than just some drug run. I sent you my coordinates four days ago, where are you?”

There’s desperation lined in his voice. The same kind that Damian heard when they’d run into Scarecrow and Drake has foolishly let himself be exposed to the toxins. 

Drake’s voice is scared. 

“I’m going to try and get some sleep. Maybe Agent A is right about the whole sleeping on it thing. Like… turning a computer on and off again.” Time huffs a laugh. “If he’d said it to me like that I might’ve listened. Red Robin, signing off.”

Damian glances at Pennyworth in time to see him stumble, Grayson is at his side before anyone else even processes it, guiding him to a chair. 

Satisfied, he turns his attention back to the static. 

“Red- Red calling in.” Drake’s breaths are labored, he’s hurt. “I don’t know how long it’s been. They took my belt. I don’t even know when- I just woke up and it was gone. Luckily I’ve got a spare com in my boot. They’ve got tech, guys. Bad tech. This- head thing. Like the head things at salons.”

The lack of intelligence in his speaking pattern suggests how badly he’s hurt, and he seems extremely fatigued. Damian clenches his fists. 

“Jason probably knows what I’m talking about. I mean, have you seen his hair? It’s like-“ a noise, probably Drake making some stupid hand motion. “Floof.”

Behind them, Todd’s gun goes off. Grayson jumps, “Jason!”

Todd just stares at the wall he’d just shot for a few more seconds, then lowers his arm and starts to once again disassemble the gun. 

Message-Drake pauses, and Damian can almost see him working through the thoughts in his head to focus on what he had been talking about. He knows this is what he’s doing because he’s seen it before, on the field. He knows it better than Drake’s smile. 

Something inside him is deeply troubled by that. 

“What I was saying- it hurt. A lot. It wasn’t mind control, it didn’t leave any of the wisps J’onn taught us to look for behind, they didn’t take anything. Which means they just wanted it to hurt. Which means…”

Silence. For a moment, Damian wonders if the message is over. 

“What the hell does that mean you assholes!” Drake yells suddenly, and Damian is ashamed that he takes a step back in surprise. “Just tell me what you want, please.”

Father leans forward and pinches the bridge of his nose as the message finishes. 

“R-Red Rob, out.”

Grayson clears his throat. “How many of these are there?” He whispers, sounding more broken than Damian has ever heard him. 

Father doesn’t reply, just presses a button on the keyboard, and the static is back. 

“Red- no, this is stupid. It’s Tim. There’s no way out of here. No doors, no windows. I don’t know how they keep getting those machines to me. Might be alien tech. It’s dark, without my tool belt. Maybe I’m some kind of lab rat. Wouldn’t be the first time. God, what I wouldn’t give for some water.”

The message ends. No sign off, just done. 

“It’s Tim. Again. Don’t know why you aren’t answering. Got better things to do, huh?” He laughs hoarsely, and it quickly dissolved into a coughing fit. Graysons hand finds Damian’s shoulder again and tightens, more for his own benefit than the younger boys. 

“Sorry. Throat’s sore. They shoved some Joker gas in here a little while ago. Not lethal, still a pain in the ass.”

The steady clicks of Todd cleaning his gun stops dead. 

“Thought I’d figured it out, that Joker was behind this, but that’s not really his M.O. He’d be gloating in my face right now if it was really him. Tell Jason he can still shoot these guys if he wants though.”

Damian doubts anything anyone did or didn’t say would convince Todd to do otherwise. At least Drake still has his idiotic sense of humor. 

“I’ve been trying to keep track of time. It’s been at least two weeks. Meaning I missed the once a month soufflé day. I expect a make up one if I get back.”

‘If’. He didn’t even pause as he said it. The ‘if’ wasn’t said out of lost hope or bitter resignation. It’s another fact. Damian hates it. 

“I can’t really feel my eyeballs right now- hold on, are you supposed to feel your eyeballs? Whatever. I’m signing off.”

Father doesn’t even hesitate to hit next. Grayson staggers. 

“It’s me again, Tim, you know, the replacement.” Drake chuckles. “I always thought that was a stupid as all hell name, considering Jason was Dicks replacement first.”

Damian is vaguely aware the Todd is standing next to Grayson now, mouth in a tight line. 

“But I get it. I mean, I felt the same when Damian came along.” Todd sucks in a breath, and Damian waits for the avalanche of insults to come. “Is he okay?”

That is not what he expected. Damian feels like he just got punched. 

“Dick said something about him getting stabbed. In all fairness, Dick once called a dislocated shoulder a life threatening emergency, but still. If anyone’s hearing this, bring him a cookie or something. Tell him- actually don’t tell him anything. It’ll be funny.”

Any other time, Damian would’ve clicked his tongue at Drakes stupidity, now he just feels empty. He’d rather he’d have insulted him. 

“Hold on,” Todd cuts in, voice gravel and rust. “If anyone’s hearing this? As in, he thought we were listening in and just letting him suffer?”

Dicks eyes widen and he shakes his head. “No. He was just- it’s the fatigue is all. He’s tired. Wrong word choice. Right B?”

Something in the way Father grunts tells Damian he isn’t sure either. 

“Stupid demon brat-“ 

Damian almost smiles. 

“-bet he’s in margaritaville now that I’m gone.”

Damian freezes. 

He knows his brother and himself do not get along, but he’d thought that over time, he’d shown, perhaps not said, but shown that he doesn’t hate Drake. Like him? Debatable. Love him? As much as one loves a loyal brother. 

“Dami?” Grayson coaxes softly. 

Damian says nothing as he stares straight ahead. 

“Enjoy it while it lasts buddy. Either I come back or you get a new Red Robin -assuming Red is even someone you need- and then you’ll understand too. Just… if you do get a new one, make sure they’re good. And make sure you like them, and make sure you tell them that.”

Based on the looks on his family’s faces, they can’t tell if Drake is talking about a hypothetical person or himself either. 

“This got off base. Guess I’m just reeling from the fear toxin. A day of exposure will do that to you.”

Father sucks in a breath. 

For the first time during the messages, Pennyworth speaks up. “An entire day? What that could do to Master Tim’s brain...”

He doesn’t finish. Damian is glad. 

“What’s next, some of Ivy’s magic spores? Actually, that wouldn’t be so bad. Spores are plants right? I could.. eat some.”

So he still hadn’t eaten. 

“Wait, don’t they come out of her mouth? Ew. Never mind.”

When the hand on his shoulder moves slightly, Damian looks up to see Grayson smiling ever so slightly, yet his eyes are sad. 

“I’ll keep you updated. Or, the Batman and co. listening who are actually a figment of my imagination because it’s obvious you’re not actually receiving these.”

There’s a few seconds of silence before Todd breaks it. “Is that the last one?”

“No,” Bruce breathes. “There’s one more.”

No one moves.

Impatience overwhelming him, Damian lurches forward to press the button. 

He immediately wishes he hadn’t. 

“Red Robin, calling in to the batcave. Figured I’d do it right one more time.” Drake's voice sounds like the noise a man makes right before he’s stabbed in the heart. Guttural and desperate and harsh and full of despair. “I’m not making it out of this one you guys.”

Damian wants to punch him. 

“Always knew it was a possibility- a probability, but now it’s a definite. I’m too injured, can’t even see straight. I’d give you a full report but I’m not that cruel.”

This message is different. It’s not worded in the same far off way the others are, there’s no anger, there’s no hope. Drake knows what he wants to say, and he knows he doesn’t have much time to say it. 

“I had this long speech, there’s not enough time. There’s never enough time, is there?” His voice starts to shudder and break, falling into an echo of what it should be, like bat cries lost in the caverns above. “I wanted to tell you how… how you saved me… how I-“

Something makes the message scream, shocking with the static. It stops. 

There’s a new voice. 

“You can unblock the frequency now.”

The message stops. 

Ignoring the sounds of Grayson finally breaking, of Todd gritting his teeth, of Father standing and stalking from the room, of Pennyworth following with a sad call, Damian walks across the cave and stops in front of the gurney. 

“You’re an idiot, Drake,” He says so quietly only the dead would hear. 

That’s fine, he thinks, as he stares down at Drake’s lifeless body. 


End file.
